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He
put
his
Panama
hat
on
his
head
,
gazed
at
the
sunlight
blistering
and
shriveling
the
trees
overhead
,
hesitated
like
a
man
plunging
into
the
outer
rim
of
hell
,
and
ran
again
for
his
car
.
The
exhaust
of
the
car
left
a
great
pall
of
blue
smoke
in
the
pulsing
air
for
five
minutes
after
he
was
gone
.
Tom
took
the
ice
pick
in
the
kitchen
and
chipped
a
pound
of
ice
into
prisms
which
he
carried
upstairs
.
Mother
was
sitting
on
the
bed
and
the
only
sound
in
the
room
was
Douglas
breathing
in
steam
and
breathing
out
fire
.
They
put
the
ice
in
handkerchiefs
on
his
face
and
along
his
body
.
They
drew
the
shades
and
made
the
room
like
a
cave
.
They
sat
there
until
two
o
’
clock
,
bringing
up
more
ice
.
Then
they
touched
Douglas
’
s
brow
again
and
it
was
like
a
lamp
that
had
burned
all
night
.
After
touching
him
you
looked
at
your
fingers
to
make
sure
they
weren
’
t
seared
to
the
bone
.
Mother
opened
her
mouth
to
say
something
,
but
the
cicadas
were
so
loud
now
they
shook
dust
down
from
the
ceiling
.
Inside
redness
,
inside
blindness
,
Douglas
lay
listening
to
the
dim
piston
of
his
heart
and
the
muddy
ebb
and
flow
of
the
blood
in
his
arms
and
legs
.
His
lips
were
heavy
and
would
not
move
.
His
thoughts
were
heavy
and
barely
ticked
like
seed
pellets
falling
in
an
hourglass
slow
one
by
falling
one
.
Tick
.
Around
a
bright
steel
comer
of
rail
a
trolley
swung
,
throwing
a
crumbling
wave
of
sizzling
sparks
,
its
clamorous
bell
knocking
ten
thousand
times
until
it
blended
with
the
cicadas
.
Mr
.
Tridden
waved
.
The
trolley
stormed
around
a
comer
like
a
cannonade
and
dissolved
.
Mr
.
Tridden
!
Tick
.
A
pellet
fell
.
Tick
.
"
Chug
-
a
-
chug
-
ding
!
Woo
-
woooo
!
"
On
the
roof
top
a
boy
locomoted
,
pulling
an
invisible
whistle
string
,
then
froze
into
a
statue
.
"
John
!
John
Huff
,
you
!
Hate
you
,
John
!
John
,
we
’
re
pals
!
Don
’
t
hate
you
,
no
.
